LEUCOTHOE

Psecas. What flower was that That thou Wertenberg telling such a story of Last night to me. Fie fie, I Like not these impossible tales, A man to fallen in love with his own shadow, And died for love, it is most ridiculous. Than S not for love, but to correct their beauty's And draw from others admiration, For all the comfort that our faces give Unto our selves is but reflection Of that fair liking that another takes. Did not count Virro promise to be hear To day at dinner. He needs not, he is rich enough, unless He should break in knavery, as some of our M hants do now adays. I would I did not, he might spare his pains And that unusual cost, that he bestows In pranking up himself, and please me better He would not please his Taylor and his Barbar, For they God more for your sake by their Lord Then they God this twenty years before. Ah Psecas, Psecas, can my father think That I can love Count Virro, one so old (That were enough to make a match unfit) But one so base, a man that never loved For any thing called good, but dross and pelf, One that would never, had my brother lived Have moved this suit, no I can never love him, But canst thou keep a secret firmly Psecas. Well I'll tell thee then, I love, alas, I dare not say I love him, But there's a young and noble Gentleman, Lord Euphues son, my father's enemy. A man whom nature's prodigality Stretched even to envy in the making up, Once from a Window my pleased eye beheld This youthful Gallant as he road the street, On a coruetting Courser, who it seemed Knew his fair load, and with a proud disdain Checked the base earth, my father being by I asked his name, he told me Philocles, The son and Heir of his great enemy: Judge Psecas then, how my divided breast, Suffered between two meeting contraries, Hatred and Love, but Loves a deity, And must prevail against mortals, whose command Not oue himself could ever yet withstand. It is too good for truth. This Letter may be forged, I much desire to know the certainty, Psecas thy help must further me. Here comes my father, he must not see this. Neither my Lord Lies in the power to do. Pity is showed to men in misery. It pride in me, my Lord, to think it so. Then my Lord, What greater gift then freedom can I give, 'Tis that that Captives most desires, and that You shall command, you're free from me my Lord, You are welcome Noble Sir and did my power, Answer my love your visitation, Should be more free, and your deserved welcome Expressed in better fashion. 'Tis your noble thought Makes good whats wanting here, but gentle friend, For so I now dare call you. Think me not light, deer Philocles, so soon To grant thee love, that others might have sought With eagerest pursuit, and not obtained, But I was yours by fate, and long have been, Before you wood Leucothoe was won, And yours without resistance. And this mine. No so I think, he moves me still to Virro That old crazed Count, and with such vehemency I dare scarce bide his presence if I deny him; Therefore we must be speedy in our course, And take without his leave what he denies. Heaven grant it may. But soft now I think better ont I'll not go. No, but isle not venture thee, thine is the danger, Thou knowest 'tis death by law to steal and heir, And my deer brother's most untimely death, Hath lately made me one, what if thou shouldst be taken. This present evening, for to morrow morning My father looks that I should give consent To marry with the Count, O no, weel meet. East from the City by a Rivers side, Not distant half a mile there stands a grove, Where often riding by I have observed A little Hermitage, there I will stay If I be first, if you, do you the Like, Let hour be ten, then shall I best escape. Use your pleasure. This is his voice, My Philocles. I durst not venture else to make escape. I know no cause, but I would feign be gone. Any whither from hen e. My thoughts divine of treason, whence I know not, There is no creature knows our meeting here But one, and thats my maid, she has been trusty And will be still I hope, but yet I would She did not know it, prithee lets away Any where else, we are secure from danger. Ay me. O they are lost, ah wicked, wicked Psecas ; Yet do but hear me father. O Sir, my Mother would have done as much For love of you, if needs had so required, Think not my mind transformed as my habit. O stay and hear me yet, hear but a word And that my last it may be, do not spill The life of him in whom my life subsists, Kill not two lives in one, remember Sir, I was your Daughter once, once you did love me, And tell me then, what fault can be so great, To make a father murderer of his child, For so you are in taking of his life. O think not Sir that I will stay behind him While there be Asps, and Knives, and burning Coals No Roman dame shall in her great example Outgo my love. My offence was as great as thine, And why should not my punishment. What are you. On me, alas I need no attendance, He might bestow his care better for me. All service is too late, my Hope's are deseperate. O strange fate Have I lost pity in a father's heart, And shall I find it in a stranger: Sir I shall not live to thank you, but my prayers Shall go with you. Surely this man Is nobly bred, how ere his habit give him: But Sir, all physic comes to me too late, There is no hope my Philocles should live Ah who should do it, I fear me 'tis in vain, Count Virro And my father both will cross it, but I would venture If I could get but thither. A thousand thanks to you, well isle go, Grant o you powers above, if Virgins tears, If a true loves prayers had ever power To move compassion grant it now to me, Armed with so strong a vigor, my weak words They may pierce deep into his kingly breast, And force out mercy in spite of all opposers. Mercy my Sovereign, mercy gracious King. If ever pity touched that princely breast, If ever Virgins tears had power to move, Or if you ever loved and felt the pangs That other lovers do, pity great King, Pity and pardon two unhappy Lovers. Yes royal Sir If Law condemn my Philocles, he and I Have but one heart, and can have but one fate. Never until your graces pardon raise me, Ther's pity in your eye, o show it Sir, Say Pardon gracious King, 'tis but a word And short, but welcome as the breath of life. I cannot think that thought I would not do, Lay it in my power, and beyond my power I would attempt. If ever I were thankful to the gods For all that I call mine, my health and being, Could I to you be unthankful for a gift I valve more then those, without which These blessings were but wearisome. I cannot Sir, For all the service I can do your Grace Is but my duty, you are my Sovereign, And all my deeds to you are debts not merits, But to those powers above that can requite, That from their vastlesse treasures hope rewards, More out of grace then merit on us mortals, To those isle ever pray that they would give you More blessings then I have skill to ask. I ever did my Lord. I was instructed from my infancy, To love and honour you my Sovereign. There is no nearer nor no truer love Then that a loyal subject bears a Prince. O me unhappy, in what a sad dilemma stands my choice. Either to loose the man my soul most loves, Or save him by a deed of such dishonour As he will ever loath me for, and hate To draw that breath that was so basely kept. Name any thing but that to save his life, I know you do but tempt my frailty Sir, I know your royal thoughts could never stoop oh such a soul dishonourable act. O I am miserable. I should be so if I should save him thus, Nay I should be a Traitor to your grace, Betray your soul to such a foe as lust, But since your oath is passed, deer Philocles I'll show to thee and honest cruelty, And rather follow thee in spotless death, Then buy with sinning a dishonoured life. O my deer Brother. dearest Philocles, for any man but thee good my Lords both together alike, why should the law and lay it all on him, would we could as lawfully he should not die for this, , whose that you have brought there? A benefactor, if it please your Lordship's, him in my watch last night. 1 line